4.28.2008
Washed Away
It was supposed to stop raining weeks ago and it hasn't stopped. After our adventure in the mire, the next thing to go was the bridge on the shortcut to the office. One morning, pre-caffeine, I went to turn left and ran into the African traffic cone--some cut branches in the road. No more shortcut--the bridge had been washed away.
When I finally made it to the office, a visitor was waiting, from a small community organization from one of our villages. The school's toilets had been swept away in the recent floods, and the children had nowhere to relieve themselves. Could we contribute? One of my staff members came back from yet another village, where he couldn't do any work because the whole village was at a funeral for three people who drowned in a pond. The people in the village who know how to swim were out in their fields when the first person jumped in and the other two drowned trying to save her.
When I got back from India, all the talk was of how great the rains had been and how well the corn was growing. Nowadays the talk is of just how ruined it is. Last week, I drove up one of the best village roads left, which still had sheets of water flowing across it. The tallest corn still looked good--leafy and tasseled--but the shorter stalks were yellowing from the bottom up. One of our community volunteers shook her head and said that now the plants would just make leaves and no corn. Although it is fun to see children playing in swollen creeks, grown adults tromping around in rubber boots, and the sleek coats of animals fat from the green grass, there is a grim time coming when the rain finally stops and there is little to harvest.
Today one of the few roads in town is closed because another bridge fell. I am staying at the office late to write this post and to give the resulting traffic jam some time to subside. Outside, it is raining.
When I finally made it to the office, a visitor was waiting, from a small community organization from one of our villages. The school's toilets had been swept away in the recent floods, and the children had nowhere to relieve themselves. Could we contribute? One of my staff members came back from yet another village, where he couldn't do any work because the whole village was at a funeral for three people who drowned in a pond. The people in the village who know how to swim were out in their fields when the first person jumped in and the other two drowned trying to save her.
When I got back from India, all the talk was of how great the rains had been and how well the corn was growing. Nowadays the talk is of just how ruined it is. Last week, I drove up one of the best village roads left, which still had sheets of water flowing across it. The tallest corn still looked good--leafy and tasseled--but the shorter stalks were yellowing from the bottom up. One of our community volunteers shook her head and said that now the plants would just make leaves and no corn. Although it is fun to see children playing in swollen creeks, grown adults tromping around in rubber boots, and the sleek coats of animals fat from the green grass, there is a grim time coming when the rain finally stops and there is little to harvest.
Today one of the few roads in town is closed because another bridge fell. I am staying at the office late to write this post and to give the resulting traffic jam some time to subside. Outside, it is raining.
Hit Counter
